


Body Heat

by noplacespecial



Category: Castle (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-25
Updated: 2009-12-25
Packaged: 2019-06-22 06:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15575538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noplacespecial/pseuds/noplacespecial
Summary: When his gaze starts occasionally straying down to her mouth, she knows she's in big trouble.





	Body Heat

**Author's Note:**

> for austen
> 
> Both the Nathan/Stana and the Nathan/Tricia prompts caught my eye, but I went with Stana because Castle is my new obsession; I just finished watching the entire series. But I threw in a Tricia reference, just for fun. As you can probably tell, I am a bit enamored with the idea of the Jossverse clan gathering outside of work. Also, my one regret is that I was not able to check out "Heat Wave" for research in time, so some inaccuracies may exist there - but it's in my TBR pile!
> 
> Note from diana, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Pretty Lights](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Pretty_lights), which closed for financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Pretty Lights collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/prettylights/profile).

When she gets the job on "Castle", she tells a few friends. They're interested, excited for her, but it's not until they find out she's working with  _the_  Nathan Fillion that their curiosity really gets piqued. She'll admit, she's heard the name a few times, but she can't really place the face. Someone loans her the "Firefly" DVD set, and she's so hooked that it's only three days later that she's making a midnight run to Blockbuster to pick up "Serenity". The tight pants admittedly help his appeal, but it's something else that makes it last; it's a ferocity, a passion, that she finds so compelling. 

Only when she meets him, he's the opposite of what she's expecting. She's been all set to meet the calm, level-headed Nathan Fillion, but instead she gets the joker, the goofball. 

Stana is not Beckett; that much is certain. But with Nathan, the lines are far more blurred. Nathan  _is_  Castle, in so many essential ways. He's silly, fun to be around, kind of immature and always cracking jokes. But at the same time he's just a genuinely good person, with a huge heart. Nathan's friends are his own Martha and Alexis Castle; there always seems to be someone popping in to visit him on-set, and they all adore him in a manner that goes beyond just friendship. Nathan is beloved, both as an actor and as a person, and when he's around friends like Alan or Morena she begins to understand why. He becomes less of the legendary Nathan Fillion in that way, and more of just plain Nathan, the guy who makes it exciting to come to work every day. 

They settle quickly into a routine, and she finds that despite outward appearances his work ethic is truly astounding. It's something that draws her to him, as her own has always been similarly strong, and they find a comfortable rhythm. They approach scenes just a bit differently, but that difference truly allows them to challenge each other, to work together to find just the right words, the right tone. They improv quite a bit, bouncing well off of one another, and if the dailies are anything to go by, it translates phenomenally on-screen. 

The staring unnerves her a bit. She lets it go at first, because they're still sizing each other up and getting used to each other. But he  _keeps doing it_. It's uncomfortable; she's never been under such intense scrutiny just while making meaningless small talk. 

When his gaze starts occasionally straying down to her mouth, she knows she's in big trouble. 

~*~ 

Stana's a tough nut to crack, he discovers. He's always been a bit of a clown, but people usually get a kick out of it, so he'd kept it up. But Stana's not having any of it, and most of the time she just gives him a noncommittal smile in response. So it becomes a bit of a game, trying to make her laugh - even when he knows that she's dying on the inside, she manages to look him directly in the eye and cock a brow, only the barest twitch of her upper lip giving her away. She's got four brothers, she tells him; she's used to ignoring the wisecracking and the charm smile. But it's all good, because he's used to dealing with scary women. Hell, he's practically made a career out of it. So she can glare at him all she likes, but the effectiveness is somewhat diminished when you've had Tricia Helfer throw you on the back of her bike and tear out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell. 

That is, until she starts flipping that damn knife that she knows fully well how to use, smiling at him all the while. Because that just freaks him right the fuck out. 

~*~ 

When he hears that she's a "Firefly" fan (Stana argues that one viewing does not a true fan make, but he conveniently ignore her protests), he drags her along with him to the next gathering at Joss'. There are only about 20 people there when they step through the door, but still she begins to feel a bit small and intimidated next to that many heavyweights. Nathan wraps an arm around her waist as if he can tell she's thinking of bailing. Then Morena comes bouncing over to them, calls her by name, and they lapse into easy conversation. A drink is shoved into her hand and before she knows it two hours have passed and she has no idea where Nathan is. 

She finds him in the kitchen, sitting around the table with Joss and Felicia. When he sees her he waves her over eagerly. Marti, Summer and Tamoh already dragged the remaining chairs into the living room, so Nathan pulls her into his lap and continues the conversation without missing a beat. 

Joss flips when he finds out that she sings, and makes Nathan promise to bring her with him the next time they have a jam session. Nathan beams and settles his hand across her hip. She pointedly ignores him and sips her beer. 

The next day at work he brings her coffee and his grin seems just a bit more familiar. She doesn't know quite how she feels about this. 

~*~ 

He notices that it never says anywhere in the script that they need to stand quite so close together. They keep doing it anyway. 

~*~ 

Occasionally, his joking does start to get on her nerves. It's fine when it's the middle of the day and they've got plenty of time, but when it's freezing, raining, and past midnight she's just about ready to smack him. He means well; and the crew, at least, seems to enjoy him lightening the mood. But she's cold and exhausted and all she can think is that if he would just get his head in the game, they could have this thing nailed in the next few takes and they could all go home. 

But he doesn't; he blows three takes flubbing a line, and another two cracking up at Seamus. Stana tightens her coat around her shoulders and glares. 

"Can you just act like a fucking professional?" she snaps. Nathan sobers immediately, and just as quick she feels the guilt settle in. She's just cranky from lack of sleep, but he takes it to heart. He apologizes softly. Two takes later it's in the can and everyone's headed to their trailers to change out of their costumes. She breathes a sigh of relief. 

He's in the makeup trailer when she goes to take off her false eyelashes. He looks up from his phone, but she walks straight past him to the furthest mirror. In it, she can see him bend down to rummage through his bag as she strips off the lashes and halfheartedly swipes at her face with a baby wipe. She's too tired to do a very thorough job, and she knows she's going to wake up to foundation smudges on her pillow tomorrow morning. 

She nearly trips over Nathan when she turns around; he's on the ground, on one knee, holding out a small silver keyring and regarding her solemnly. 

"Stana, will you marry me?" he asks. "I promise to be the best work husband ever and never piss you off again." 

She lasts approximately five seconds before she bursts out laughing. 

"Oh, I doubt that," she retorts. Nathan grins back at her, and rises to enfold her in a hug. 

"I'm sorry," he murmurs into her hair. Her eyes drift closed and she knows that if she's not careful she's going to fall asleep right here in his arms, and there's all kinds of wrong there. 

"Me too," she responds. 

She doesn't pull away until Jon enters the trailer noisily and shoots the two of them a curious look. 

~*~ 

Nathan gets ahold of "Heat Wave" the day it comes out. He makes a scene of comparing her to the cover art, then flips promptly to page 105, which he proceeds to read. Out loud. In the middle of a crowded sound stage. Jon and Tamala think it's hilarious, egging him on and adding their own color commentary. Stana sticks to running lines with Seamus, but every time her gaze strays from the script he's looking directly at her, and she can't deny that the words sound even more provocative when read in his smooth voice. But she's absolutely not imagining the scene in her head. 

~*~ 

When she's flustered, or in some other way distracted, she often slips into another language. Nathan wonders if she even realizes that she's doing it, dropping her coffee one minute and swearing in Croatian the next. It's undeniably sexy, however. 

It's Molly that first points it out to her, when they're all eating lunch and she starts muttering to herself in Italian while poring over a script. Stana looks up in surprise, blinks. 

"Sorry," she says. "Didn't realize I was talking out loud." Molly shrugs. 

"You do it all the time, actually," she informs her. Stana actually blushes. 

"Do I?" she asks Nathan. He grins broadly. 

"Hey, sexy woman saying words at me I don't understand? I'm not complaining. I just pretend they're all dirty." Both females roll their eyes, but Stana files this little bit of information away for future reference. 

It comes in handy three weeks later. He's been messing with her all day, teasing, touching. She kind of hates that they're on a show where she can't call him on it, because he'll insist that it's just something for the scene. But she knows him way too well for that by now, and that mischievous glint in his eye tells her that he knows precisely what he's doing when he looms close behind and breathes down the back of her neck, fingers trailing along her inner elbow. 

She waits for one of Jon and Seamus' scenes where they're in the background. While everyone else is focused on Ryan and Esposito's disagreement over a suspect's motives, she gets right in Nathan's face. But they're Castle and Beckett right now, so no one even blinks twice. Except Nathan, that is, when she starts murmuring French in his ear. She's sure to draw out the vowels, lower her voice an octave and milk it for all it's worth. And oh, it's worth it. Nathan swallows thickly, breathing heavily through his nose. Stana grins triumphantly. 

"And just so you know? That was  _all_  dirty," she adds. 

(For the record, it's a children's poem.) 

~*~ 

At the Season 2 wrap party, they both have far too much to drink. They're justified, she tells herself; there's still been no word as to whether they've been picked up for a third season, so this could well be the series finale party. 

Less justified is how she ends up making out with Nathan on the porch, but that's a different story. 

She steps out to fetch another drink (not that she needs one) and her heel gets caught in a crack between the wooden planks. A sickening feeling churns in the pit of her stomach as she feels herself pitch backwards, but then there are strong arms around her waist, steadying her. 

"Careful there," Nathan warns. She blushes almost immediately and he doesn't step back, just wraps his arms tighter around her. He reeks of whiskey and she makes a face. 

"Jack Daniels? Really?" she questions. She turns in his arms and backs up so that she can lean against the porch railing but he follows, gripping the wooden banister on either side of her. 

"Oh, and what are you drinking?" he challenges, eying the boxes of fruity malt beverages lining the porch in cardboard boxes. "You can't get drunk off of Smirnoff Ice." Stana grins. 

"That's why I was taking shots of scotch with Jon earlier," she informs him. Nathan's eyes light up. 

"There's my girl," he congratulates. They eye each other, both seeming to pick up on the weight of the words "my girl". Behind Nathan is a sliding glass door, and through it she can see the rest of the cast and crew mulling about; they're quite exposed here. Anyone could come wandering out those doors. But Nathan seems neither to notice nor care as he leans forward and presses a kiss to the hollow of her throat. 

"Exactly how many shots did you have?" he asks. She snorts. 

"Clearly enough that I haven't kicked you in the crotch yet." Nathan chuckles and kisses her again, at the juncture where her shoulder meets her neck. Her eyes are starting to droop closed when she catches a flash of movement through the doors. It's just Molly and Seamus dancing, but it's enough to snap her out of it. She grabs Nathan by the collar and yanks, keeps pulling at him until they're fully out of view and crowded up against far corner of the building. Her dress is backless and she thinks she might be getting a splinter from the railing, but that ceases to matter when she takes him by the back of the head and draws him down to her mouth. 

They paw at each other like sloppy teenagers, her dress riding high on her thighs and his shirt coming untucked in the process, but eventually they do have to come up for air. They rear back, gasping, and she sees that his face is flushed, eyes hooded with lust. It sends a thrilling spark through her, to be able to reduce him to this, but predictably, someone chooses that moment to slide open the porch door. 

She shoves him back as far as he can go, presses herself fully against him. Evidence of his obvious interest in furthering their activities is poking her in the thigh, but as soon as the door closes once more and they have managed to go undetected, she pulls back completely. 

"This was probably a bad idea," she says, spins on her heel and leaves him gaping after her. 

She is  _not_  hooking up with him while drunk at a wrap party; it's too pathetic and too cliche. But she can't hide a smile when he comes chasing after her, grabbing her by the elbow. 

"Have dinner with me," he practically begs. 

Oh, yeah. Tomorrow, all bets are off. 

"I'll think about it," she says demurely.


End file.
